


Divination Intervention

by themonkeyonyourback



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Parent-Child Relationship, Slow Burn, Squibs, there's a counselor cuz merlin knows these kids need therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26118097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themonkeyonyourback/pseuds/themonkeyonyourback
Summary: If there’s one thing the Marauders know for certain, it’s that the show must go on. Even while Voldemort is rising to power and nefarious Death Eater activity may or may not be taking place in Hogwarts halls, there are still Hogsmeade weekends to attend (with or without an obstinate-as-ever Lily Evans), tests to study for, a new DADA teacher and a mysterious girl who arrived out-of-the-blue with an oversized trunk and a bright smile.It’s the Marauders sixth year at Hogwarts, and all they can do is hope not to break a leg.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Mary Macdonald & Marlene McKinnon & Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter & Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & Lily Evans Potter & Arabella Trelawney, Sirius Black/Arabella Trelawney
Kudos: 6





	Divination Intervention

For Ari, it all started the day she returned home from Adam Rischling Academy with shaking hands, her duffel bug clattering to the floor.

For Lily, it started that day Sev walked up to her, hands in oversized pockets, and told her that he knew who she was.

For James, it started when he watched his cousin wave to him from the Hogwarts Express, wand in hand. Only then did it ever feel real. 

For Sirius...well, Sirius didn’t remember exactly when it fully hit him that he would be attending Hogwarts. That fact had been drilled into him since birth and practically since conception.  


“You’re a wizard, Sirius Black,” Regulus would say, in perfect imitation of their parents, whenever Sirius complained about having to do dishes or tidy up his room. 

“You know I’m not allowed to do magic outside of school,” Sirius would retort.

“Because Mum and Dad love enforcing the Ministry’s rules. Here, watch.” Then Regulus would flick his wrist, and Sirius’ books (okay, not books: Muggle clothes he collected and James Bond posters and vinyl records and magazines with pictures of...that was beside the point) would go zooming back to their respective places in his typically haphazard room.

He wasn’t speaking to Regulus now. Which was not making him want to rip his hair out. Not that he would never rip his hair out - not even for Reggie. Hair like his took time and effort that was not to be messed up because Sirius had a dramatic whim. 

He was barely speaking to his parents, either. Orion and Walburga weren’t exactly sensational conversationalists. A sentence had to communicate something while also communicating deep disdain and have a passive-aggressive double meaning for it to be worth saying aloud in the Black family. 

The Potters, on the other hand, oozed love and kindness and goodwill and had no hesitation in sharing it with anyone. It practically gave Mum and Pop Black an allergic reaction, which was maybe kinda sort of the reason Sirius liked living with them so much. And James - James was always a reason. Whether or not he was a good reason was Professor McGonagall’s job to sort out.

“Sirius, darling, promise you’ll write to us,” Mrs. Potter said, adjusting his jacket.

“Of course, Mrs. Potter.” 

“Son, please, call us Fleamont and Euphemia,” Mr. Potter - Fleamont, Sirius reminded himself - said. Sirius always felt a little jolt in his stomach every time the Potters called him son. It was an expression of endearment, like darling or dear. He ought to remember that. It didn’t mean they actually thought of him that way. 

“You, too, Jamie. At least once a week.”

“Once a month. Got it,” James said, leaning away from his mother, who was trying to wipe away a nonexistent speck of dirt on her son’s cheek. The four of them were standing on Platform 9 ¾ with an awkward jumble of trunks and cauldrons and owls apiece. 

“James, no slacking off this year. Sixth Year is important.”

“You say that every year,” he grumbled. Sirius could tell his friend was itching to get on the train. 

“No pranks!” Mrs. Potter reminded her son.

“Merlin, Mum, I know. Can I please go now?”

“Just one hug.”

“Mu-um.” But James leaned in anyways and was wrapped in a tight embrace by his mother. 

“Okay. Thanks for that. We’re going now,” James said, one foot already on the train. Sirius could see the laughing faces of Upper Years and the anxious First Years with their noses pressed against the glass. 

“Don’t be silly, boys. You’re not getting away that easy,” Mrs. Potter said, one foot on James’ trunk. “C’mere.” Sirius tried not to grin while she hugged him. There was something about hugs from Mrs. Potter. They felt like eating a warm cottage pie. 

Okay, that was extremely idiotic. He told his internal monologue to shut up immediately.

“‘Bye, Mum. ‘Bye, Dad. Love you.” James grabbed Sirius’ hand and hoisted him onto the train.

“Love you both lots!” Mrs. Potter yelled to them while her husband waved. Sirius and James waved back as the train’s pace quickened and the Potters became a mere dot in the distance.

“We’re free!” James cried, leading his friend down the hallway. Sometimes Sirius felt like sitting his friend down and explaining just exactly how lucky he was. It was like James didn’t understand that not all parents gave out love and affection willy nilly - with some families, it needed to be earned. By doing...well, what Reggie and his Death Eater friends were doing right now. 

Orion and Walburga Black didn’t support Voldemort, at least not openly. But when Regulus showed up to dinner with sweaty hair and blood smeared across his face, snarling at their house-elf, they had practically winked. 

“Hey, Padfoot! Prongs!” Peter waved frantically at them. “How was your summer?”

“Brilliant. Where’s Moony?” Sirius asked. Peter pointed to a paler-than usual Remus, who gave his friends a sheepish wave. 

“Merlin, Moony,” said James. “You look like shit.”

“Someone didn’t get their beauty sleep,” Sirius teased. 

“Not all of us spent our summers daydreaming about a certain redhead while being force-fed by Euphemia.” 

“Is this compartment open?” James interrupted, ruffling his perpetually messy hair preemptively and leaning on the doorframe. It was meant to be a Casual Lean, but naming it, as James had done, and practicing it (as he had also done), had decidedly taken away from the whole casual aspect.  
“  
So this is why someone was in such a rush,” Sirius smirked as he shoved his friend into the coveted compartment. 

“Hi, boys,” Marlene McKinnon cooed, scooching to make room.

“Not you all again.” Lily sighed like she was the Minister of Magic. 

“Hush, Lil. Let’s have a bit of fun.”

“I’m with Lily. No boys. Sorry, Marly,” Mary Macdonald whispered into her sleeve as she braided an exasperated Lily Evans’ bright red hair. 

“And I’m with _Marly_ ,” Sirius announced, hoisting his trunk above where she was sitting.

“I know. It’s such a stupid nickname. It’s not even fewer syllables.” Marlene pointed an accusing forefinger at her friends. “Do better.”

“Sorry, Mar-Mar,” Lily said. 

“Ew. No. Worse.” Marlene wrinkled her nose. “Don’t be shy, Potter. And the Prefect. And the...other one.”

“Git,” Sirius said, almost affectionately. He had a brief stint with her as Fifth Years but had gotten out of it relatively unscarred, which probably had something to do with the fact that they were both notoriously good at rebounding.

“Hey,” James said as he stood above Lily and Mary expectantly, affecting a deep, ragged voice. 

“Don’t even,” snapped Lily. Sirius mimed a cat scratch, which James tactfully ignored. 

“Don’t even what, Evans?”

“Stop…” She gestured wildly. “Stop doing _that_ , that lean thing. You don’t look cool. You look like you’re too skinny to hold yourself up.” James straightened himself out like a slap bracelet and ran his fingers frantically through his hair. “And don’t do _that_ , either. Out, now.”

“Aw, Lil,” Marlene complained, but she didn’t object either. She shooed Sirius and his friends out of the compartment with a wave of her hand.

“What did I do wrong?” James moaned once they were out of earshot. Sometimes Sirius agreed with Lily on the whole Potter-is-an-idiot thing. An endearing idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.

“I haven’t the slightest idea, Prongs,” Sirius said, putting an exaggerated finger to his temple. 

“Was it the ‘hey’?” Remus asked, laughing.

“Maybe it was the hair,” Sirius said. “Seriously, Prongs, let me have at the hair. I swear I won’t mess it up.” Sirius swatted at James’ head, who batted his hand away. “Just a bit of product, maybe? A smoothing spell, right, Moony?”

“She’ll come around,” James said to himself.

“Definitely,” Peter said earnestly.

“Oh, definitely,” Sirius assured his friend with mock sincerity. 

“You three can reflect on this, but I’ve got to patrol the corridors,” Remus said, flashing them his badge.

“Because you’re a prefect? We had no idea,” Sirius said.

“Shut up. Sirius and Peter, you’re on Lily duty. And I have the most brilliant idea.” With that, Remus walked away, his robes billowing behind him.

“The suspense!” cried Sirius. 

Remus gave him a prompt finger. 

“C’mon,” James said, leading his friends into an empty compartment. Well, currently empty. One of the many perks of being a Marauder was that any compartment could be empty if you glared at its occupants enough. 

“I brought Gobstones!” Peter said eagerly.

“Trolls’ testicles, Peter, no one likes Gobstones,” James grumbled.

“I think,” Sirius whispered to Peter loud enough for James to hear, “that our friend here wants to sulk in silence for the rest of the trip because he feels so terribly slighted. And no siree, I am not having it. I mean, honestly, there are other redheads. Bossy ones even. So we are going to play Gobstones, and we are going to have some bloody fun. Alright?” Peter arranged the game on the floor of the train, but when he tapped one of the stones the wrong way, a putrid liquid shot out and landed smack in the middle of James’ face.

Peter winced. “Sorry. I think it’s broken.”

“You think?”

“It’s not broken, Wormtail, it’s brilliant!” Sirius cried. “I’m going to get Lily right now and tell her to come in here!”

A drop of green goo slid down James’ cheek and landed in his lap.

“I will hex all of you,” James griped, though a rebellious smile tugged at his lips.

There was something so normal about being on the Hogwarts Express. Sirius knew the Potters wanted him to feel comfortable at their quaint little suburban home, but he wasn’t a white picket fence kind of person. Whenever he pictured going home, he saw himself on this train, laughing with his friends.

***  
Ari’s duffle bag echoed on the floor with a thump.

“Oh, darling!” Aisling Trelawney cooed. The excessive amount of beaded bracelets on her wrists created a symphony when she ushered her daughter into a desperate hug. Ari was 16, which was definitely too old to be held by your mother like an infant. Except for the fact that it felt kind of nice. 

She didn’t think 16 was too young to be told by your mum that everything would be okay, right?

“They fire-called me. Are you alright?” Ari, for once, bit her tongue. This was not the time to lecture her mother on the names for Muggle technologies. 

“I’m fine, Mum.” Ms. Trelawney tilted her head.

“Oh, darling. I should’ve…”

“Mum, seriously, I’m…” When did their conversations become like this? Whispered regrets and unfinished sentences? “Mum, I can’t go back,” she whispered in between heaving sobs, her curls escaping from the ponytail she had hastily pulled them into.

“Shhhhh. Shhhhh.” Ms. Trelawney kissed her daughter’s forehead. “I knew this day was coming. In my daily card reading, I - ” Not the time, Mum. So not the time.

“Nevermind that.” Sometimes, Ari thought her mother really was psychic. Or Seeing. She was fairly sure psychic was considered an offensive term, but then again, her mum considered All-Knowing Spirit to be an appropriate term of address. Cupping Ari’s face in her hands, Ms. Trelawney said, “You don’t have to go back. Not right now, anyway.”

With that, she stood up to go fire-call Dumbledore.

***

The Marauders sat at their usual seats at the Gryffindor table. Next to them sat Frank Longbottom, who was eagerly explaining something to his girlfriend, Alice Travers.

“Hello,” Alice said somberly, chewing a piece of gum. 

“Congrats on being Head Boy and Girl,” Remus said. Sirius gave him mental points for trying, but there was no use starting a conversation with Alice and Frank unless you wanted to be lectured for hours on the medicinal purposes of poppy seeds. 

“I suppose it is an accomplishment.” Alice studied her fingernails. “Though I can’t say we had much competition.” A Flipping Frisbee whizzed past her head.

“Allie, we ought to reprimand whoever threw that.” Alice nodded gravely, and the two set off to find the culprit. Sirius yawned theatrically.

“Those two are worse than Binns,” James mumbled.

“Shhhh.” Remus pointed towards Dumbledore, who stood up as if on command.

“Greetings, my fellow magical beings. I hope you all enjoyed your momentary respite from books and parchment.”

“As if we weren’t given loads of homework over summer,” sniped Remus. 

“However, war does not pause on Holiday, and I’m sure that you all know about the events that took place over the last few months.” All of Hogwarts was silent. “Having said that, I am not sure that you are all aware of the specific threat Voldemort and his followers pose to Hogwarts.” Dumbledore paused for a moment to allow the students to revel in that information. Sirius thought that in another life the Headmaster might’ve been an actor. He certainly had a flair for the dramatic.

“Security measures have been tightened, but there are certain threats that do not come from outside these grounds.” Several students pointed accusing fingers at the Slytherin table. “Therefore, I must ask you all to be vigilant and to report any suspicious activity to your respective Heads of Houses. And, as usual, I have a new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor to introduce. Please welcome Professor Asteriks.” A tall woman in floral robes stood up and waved.

“Hello, students!” she said brightly. A select few waved halfheartedly towards her. “I can’t hear you!” she sang out, cupping a hand behind her ear and leaning forward.

“Hello, Professor Asteriks,” mumbled the students.

“Still can’t hear you!” A few seats away, Lily rolled her eyes.

“Hello, Professor Asteriks!” Surely that ought to have done it.

“Still can’t hear you!” 

“Are you deaf, woman?” someone shouted. Her smile faltered for a moment.

“Still can’t hear you!” she repeated.

“HELLO, PROFESSOR ASTERIKS!” 

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The look on Professor McGonagall’s face indicated that that was, in fact, exceedingly difficult.

“ _Bon appétit, mes amis_ ,” Dumbledore said quickly, flourishing his hands. In an instant, the tables were spilling over with steaming plates of food. Sirius’ goblet was filled to the brim with pumpkin juice, and he reached over James to grab a plate of ribs.

“Ow, Padfoot!”

“Can’t hear you!” he said in a sing-songy voice.

“Does anyone else have a strong urge to murder that woman?” Remus held up a fork menacingly. 

“She seems nice?” Peter said, biting his lip.

“‘At’s ‘or ‘illiant idea, ‘Oony?” James asked, his mouth overflowing with chunks of bread.

“There’s this thing called chewing…” James swallowed sheepishly.

“The thing you talked to us about. On the train.”

“Right, that. You know our Map?” Remus had come up with the idea for the Map when they had discovered the first of Hogwarts’ secret passageways. It turned out that Remus had a hidden talent for cartography (Sirius didn’t think there could be a nerdier sentence than that) and the Map had grown to include all of Hogwarts. “I think we should Magik it.”

“Droppers of eaves,” Sirius said darkly, gesturing to some Fifth Years who hastily averted their eyes. 

“ _Muffliato_ ,” Remus quickly whispered.

“Why did Snivellus have to go and make a useful spell?” Sirius despaired. “It almost makes me hate the slimy git less.”

“No!” Remus said with mock aghast. Sirius nodded gravely.

“What’s Magiking something again?” Peter asked, twirling spaghetti noodles on his fork.

“Giving a Muggle object magical properties,” James answered. “What kind of Magiking?”

“I think we should use it to track Filch.”

“Brill, Moony.”

“That’s a bit stalker-y,” Peter whispered. 

James shrugged. “Not really. We’d just know where he is at all times so we don’t run into him.”

“That’s, like, the definition of stalking,” Sirius said.

“Can we please debate this moral quandary at another time?” Remus asked. “I’m hungry.” He piled some peas on his plate.

“Me, too.” James snatched a roll from a Fourth Year’s hand. “Basilisk’s bollocks, Moony, eat some carbs. You look terminally ill.”

“It’s his summer bod,” Sirius said. “And is stalking that bad if it’s for the greater good?” 

“If by ‘greater good’, you mean sneaking a werewolf out of Hogwarts and wreaking havoc on this school, then probably.” Remus took a very haughty sip of his pumpkin juice. “That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do it.”

Sirius batted his friend’s prefect badge. “Honestly, Moony, what potions were they on when they gave you this?”

***

The first time Sirius saw Ari, Remus was attempting to teach the three of them how to cast a nonverbal spell. 

Remus furrowed his brow and in an instant, the tip of his wand lit up. Peter clapped his hands together with almost maniacal enthusiasm.

“Show-off,” Sirius said. 

“Now you try,” Remus responded, but Sirius wasn’t listening. He squinted at what looked to be two figures in the distance.

“Moony, there’s a Muggle out there.” Remus sighed.

“No, there isn’t. Stop trying to get out of practice.”

“No, seriously, there’s a Muggle out there. A Muggle-girl.”

“I think Sirius has a Muggle kink,” James said lazily, ruffling his hair with his fingers. “Who was that boy again, the blonde one in that picture you showed me?”

“There wasn’t _one_ ,” Sirius said, winking. “And at least I haven’t been hopelessly obsessed with one girl since I was a First Year.”

“I am not hopelessly obsessed!” cried James, indignant, but the doodles of Lily Evans in his notebook begged to differ. Remus ignored his two friends’ bickering and looked in the direction Sirius had pointed towards. 

“That’s a girl,” Remus decided.

“See, I told you - ”

A short girl stood in the distance dressed in tight jeans and a black puffy coat. She had her hand on her forehead as if in a salute as she gazed up at the school, leaning her weight against her trunk. Hagrid towered over her, and slung across his shoulders was the girl’s brown satchel, which looked doll-sized on the half-giant. 

“She’s obviously not a Muggle, Padfoot, because when Muggles see Hogwarts they see a rotting old ruin with a sign that says DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE,” Remus said. “Don’t tell me you haven’t read Hogwarts, A History?”

“Don’t tell me you have, Moony,” said Sirius. “And those are definitely Muggle clothes.” James quirked an eyebrow as if to ask, _how would you know_?

“Maybe she’s a Muggle-born,” Peter offered. “And she missed the train.”

“Oi,” Sirius called to a group of Ravenclaws. “Do any of you recognize that girl?” One girl looked up from her book and shook her head deliberately.

“She probably just missed the train. Stop procrastinating.”

“But I’m so lazy,” Sirius moaned. “And this is so hard.”

“As the actress says to the bishop,” James said, looking a little too pleased with himself. Peter giggled. 

“Hallelujah. You have the sense of humor of a schoolboy,” Remus remarked.

“I am a schoolboy.”

“A schoolboy who can’t do nonverbal spells. Now try Lumos.” James merely whispered the spell very quietly.

Sirius tapped Remus on the shoulder. “I’m gonna use the loo.” Remus eyed the Muggle-girl, who was dragging her trunk into Hogwarts.

“Have fun,” he said dryly. Sirius winked.

“Always do.”

***

So he wasn’t following her, per se. He just happened to be nearby. 

Following someone wasn’t usually so morally ambiguous. 

“Oi, you there,” shouted the Muggle-girl from the top of the staircase. A curl was plastered to her cheekbone with sweat and she plopped on her trunk, panting. “Think you could give me a hand?” Sirius reached the top with a few long strides and held out his wand. 

“Why didn’t you use magic?” he asked, levitating the trunk as she led the way.

“I’m a Squib,” said the girl, and she seemed not the least bit ashamed of it. Sirius thought she seemed rather...cheerful. Sirius studied her as she trudged up the staircase, jumping as a step fell out from under her. So she had never been to Hogwarts, that much was clear. Even First-Years knew what steps to avoid. And what was a Squib doing at Hogwarts with a trunk that could fit a family of four and a few extra aunts and uncles?

“Speechless?” the girl teased. “Never seen one of us before, huh? A real-life Squib, in the wild!” She grinned, and it was the kind of grin that made you grin, too, without realizing it. “The name’s Ari, by the way. Typically, you know, when you have a conversation with a person you ask what their name is, though this feels more like talking to a teacup, honestly. Merlin knows my mum does enough of that - ”

“My name’s Sirius. Sirius Black,” he said, finally finding his vocal cords and flashing her a dizzying smile.

“I know who you are, silly.” She squinted and looked him up and down. “A long curtain of black hair and that devilishly handsome face,” she said in a mocking voice, “why, that must be the young Black lad!”

“I’m disturbed.”

“Rightfully so. My cousin won’t shut up about you.” She wrinkled her nose at the thought. 

“Do I know this cousin?”

“Oh, you know her,” Ari said dryly. “Sybill Trelawney.” Sirius did know her. Sybill was always predicting when he would get Dragon Pox or Spattergroit.

“So that makes you…”

“The daughter of Professor Aisling Trelawney.” Now it was Sirius’ turn to size her up. She had brown eyes covered with a curtain of spidery mascara. Her hair, Sirius noted, didn’t seem to know what to do with itself: some of her shiny black curls were tight ringlets and others cascaded down her back like spiral staircases. 

“You don’t…”

“Look like her? Act like her? The list goes on.” But Sirius couldn’t stop staring at her eyes. They were wide and far too big for her face, and distinctly her mother’s. “So, according to Dumbledore, I’m meant to go to the seventh floor and stand across from the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy.” Sirius pointed in the direction. “And then I have to walk past it three times thinking about how much I want a place to stay. Seems a bit odd,” she said, but she didn’t sound annoyed; she was practically brimming with excitement. They arrived at the destination, Sirius setting the trunk down with a loud thunk, and stood there, scratching their heads.

“Was it presumptuous of me to expect a door?” Sirius asked.  
“I could’ve sworn this is exactly where Dumbledore said to go.” She glanced at Sirius. “Guess I’ll give it a go.” Sirius lowered himself to the floor and leaned against the wall, his legs splayed in front of him. He waved his arm grandly in a gesture that Ari interpreted to mean _go ahead_. “Alright then. I really don’t want to be homeless,” she said to the wall, scrunching her face in concentration. She walked past once, then twice - then, after the third time, the outlines of a door began to carve into the wall. At first, there was just a singular line, and then another, until a rectangle appeared and with a _pop!_ the door swung open.

“Nifty,” said Ari, her hands on her hips. She laughed, a babbling, bubbly laugh that reminded him of the pale pink soap bubbles Sirius used to conjure during Regulus’ bathtime. He wasn’t sure why he was still there. Surely she could manage to haul her trunk the three feet between her and the door. 

But no need to make an excuse to get out of there because she held out her hand and yanked Sirius up. “C’mon,” she said as she led him inside.

Sirius strolled around the room. The walls were painted a soft yellow and brightly colored fairies were flying about the ceiling. There was a large, industrial-sized fridge across from where Ari sat cross-legged on the canopy bed.

“You can ask, you know. I won’t hex you.” She laughed a little too hard at her joke and stared at him intently. 

“All right then. What’s a…”

“It’s not a bad word, you know.” She looked amused.

“What’s a Squib doing at Hogwarts?”

“I normally go to Muggle boarding school or live with my dad while Mum teaches, but I’m failing that.” Again, she didn’t look the least bit ashamed, and Sirius wondered if there was anything that could embarrass this girl. “Mum said I should go to Hogwarts, and, you know, I thought she had inhaled a bit too much incense, but she seemed really intent on the idea. She worked it out with Dumbledore, and I’m going to help Healer Cole on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and help Professor Quirrel with Muggle Studies on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’m good with kids, and Merlin knows I’d rather be here than studying Maths.”

“Merlin, I forgot about Healer Cole. She’s a counselor, right?”

“A Mind Healer. You know, like what Muggles call a therapist. You should come to see her sometimes. Not because I’m assuming you have mental problems,” she added hastily. “But if you do, er, that’s nothing to be ashamed of, really. We’re all a bit crazy up there.” She tapped her head with her index finger. “We’ve got Chocolate Frogs,” she said as an afterthought. “That usually works. Healer Cole says half the people who come in are looking for a sweet.” He found her babbling oddly endearing.

“Maybe I will. I am a bit crazy up there.”

“Me too.” She giggled. “My brain doesn’t behave sometimes. Most of the time.” She rolled off her bed and opened her trunk. “I’ve got to unpack.”

“Right. Good luck.” She gave him an odd look.

“Because I practically need Felix Felicis to put my robes away.” 

“Especially if your brain doesn’t behave.”

“Especially that.” She started to wave to him as he walked away but seemed to think better of it, shoving her mutinous hands into her pockets. “We have Chocolate Frogs. Remember that.”

He had a feeling he would.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm new to fanfiction, so constructive criticism is really appreciated!
> 
> Author's Notes:
> 
> \- 'As the actress says to the bishop' is the British version of 'That's what she said'.
> 
> \- As for how long this will be: I'm not sure exactly how long yet, but it'll be a long haul. 
> 
> \- I'm trying to make it so this fic could be canonically possible. The one change I made is that Lily and James get together in Sixth Year, not Seventh, because these beautiful idiots need as much time together as possible. Any other errors are my fault so please call me out on them!


End file.
